


Pay Attention To Me

by Quillsandcoffee



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Foreplay, M/M, Pining, lestat is lonely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29115189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillsandcoffee/pseuds/Quillsandcoffee
Summary: Lestat is feeling overlooked so he goes out on the town to find his own entertainment.
Relationships: Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac
Kudos: 24





	Pay Attention To Me

The world was covered in twilight. Trees became villains reaching out and the moon illuminated menacing shadows on the pavement. The air smelled of rain, and even then tiny droplets pattered against the ground. Slowly they melted the scattered patches of snow lingering on the rooftops of buildings and covering the cobbled streets. Inside their tiny house, Louis sat curled on the couch, a book held upright in his hands with his eyes roaming the pages absently. He toyed with a wineglass, twisting it between his fingers and occasionally lifting the glass to his lips. Mostly, though, he sat, and Lestat could not take it anymore.

“Louis.” There was no response, not even a tilt of the head as acknowledgment. “Louis? I know you can hear me and this little charade you are keeping up is ridiculous and childish.”

Louis sighed, a long and suffering sound that dragged on Lestat’s ears. “I can hear you fine. As you can see, I am otherwise occupied.” He held up the book in evidence and promptly returned to it.

Lestat watched him from his chair, an old chair he had found in one of the antique stores the modern era was so fond of. It reminded him of the old days when it was just the two of them and Claudia and they were happy. His sharp nails tapped against the wood impatiently, eyes narrowing at Louis’s continued dismissiveness.

Finally he could stand it no longer and stood up, stalking over to the brunet. He kneeled beside him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pressing his mouth to the nape of his neck. If Louis registered the movement he hid it well, not so much as blinking at the action. Lestat opened his mouth, softly suckling the sensitive skin contained there.

“Lestat.”

Lestat grinned against him. “Yes my love?”

“I know what you are doing and I am not in the mood. I would like to continue my reading in peace if you don’t mind.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lestat replied innocently, gently digging in his teeth. He could feel the shudder run through Louis’s body, though he tried to repress it.

“Lestat,” he breathed and closed his eyes. He did not, Lestat noticed, try and stop him.

Lestat’s teeth dug in just a bit more until he had pierced skin and he could feel the warm sensation of blood coiling against his tongue. He savored the taste, gently sucking the liquid from his neck until finally Louis gasped and reached a hand back, gripping Lestat’s hair and pulling him back.

“That’s enough.”

“I don’t think it is.” Lestat moved to take more but Louis turned at last, dropping his book and grapping Lestat by the front of his jacket, pulling him close.

“I said,” Louis hissed, not breaking eye contact. “That’s enough.”

Lestat smiled deviously in a way that could not fail to provoke and raised an eyebrow. “And what will you do if I don’t?”

Louis considered him for a moment and then, to Lestat’s great disappointment, released his jacket and settled himself on the couch once more, picking back up his book. “I shall leave and then you’ll be alone, something I know you hate far more than boredom.”

Lestat snapped his teeth impatiently, rising to his full height. “You’re dreadfully boring, you know? I do all these nice things for you, build you this house, provide for you, fill our lives with fanciful wonders that most people only dream of, and the only thing I ask is that my lover pay even the slightest attention to me but you cannot do even that.”

Louis marked a page in his book, placing it besides him on the couch and turning a glare on his partner. “You bought this house, Lestat, from a shady man you met in an ad, and the entire thing is falling apart as it is.”

“It’s called an antique,” Lestat sniffed haughtily.

“I provide for myself, thank you very much, unless you mean the little boys you leave littered around the house like some kind of deranged cat, bleeding all over our carpet that I bought. And your fanciful wonders, as you call them, are nothing but meaningless trinkets you forget about the day after. For goodness sake Lestat, there is a boar’s head hanging on our wall!”

“Well excuse me for trying to bring something of the outside world into our home, or else you would never see it!” Lestat began to pace the room and Louis watched him with an expression of reluctant interest. “You spend all day cooped up in here, and I am tired of it! You need to live!”

“I already lived.”

“No,” Lestat corrected. “You were alive. There is a difference, in case you weren’t aware. You spend these centuries sulking like an insolent child and the only thing that excites you now is death. You dream of it, staring longingly at flames and daggers like a fool. Yet you never have the courage to go through with it, because in the end you are a coward. Scared of living, scared of dying. And I, for one, am sick of it.”

Lestat turned around, whirling out the doorway in a huff. Louis watched him for a moment, before picking back up his book and turning a page.

Lestat was enraged.

He found himself in a small town miles away from the house he had stormed out of. He was not entirely sure where he was, merely that it was somewhere where Louis was not which was enough for the time being. He strolled the cobbled streets, watching bundled humans hurry back to their houses for the night.

Lestat couldn’t believe him. He did everything he possibly could for Louis’s sake and still he found himself scorned in the end. He was willing to ignore all of Louis’s little rebellions, all the times he ran away from him, tried to kill him, replaced him with someone new—he was willing to ignore it all because that’s what you did when you loved someone. You forgave them. Unfortunately, it appeared that Louis had not received that message.

He wanted entertainment. The thought came to him seemingly on a whim, but as he examined it further he realized that the desire had been there all along. If Louis was going to continue to be obstinate and ignore him, than he would seek amusement elsewhere.

The scent of blood was heavy in the air. It always was during the wintertime, heat brought quickly to the surface as their frail human bodies fought to keep them alive. Lestat inhaled, his path following the particularly alluring smell of a dashing youth in his twenties with dark hair that curled in the most lovely fashion about his ears. He made sure to keep a decent amount of distance between him and the boy, twisting in and around patrons of the tiny city.

The boy appeared to be rushing somewhere, his steps hurried and anxious. He cast furtive glances to either side as he slipped into a small alleyway, disappearing into the darkness. Lestat narrowed his eyes, a predatory grin glinting on his features. He had always enjoyed the chase, far more than the others had.

He kept close to the wall, tracking the boy’s coattails carefully as they flapped in the hurtling breeze. He heard the murmur of voices and peered around the stairwell he had been clutching at. It was then that he realized that the boy was not alone.

A girl, maybe ten years older than him, smiled lovingly as the boy pulled out a bundle of flowers he had been concealing under his cloak. She had beautiful auburn hair that fell about her shoulders in wind-swept waves. As he watched her examine the flowers and then the boy with a critical eye, he recognized the same cold gestures that Louis often reserved for him, only more calculating than Louis’s bland apathy. She was toying with him. That much was obvious. It made sense, what with the age difference and shady rendezvous in back alleys.

“I picked these especially for you,” the boy explained in excited whispers, clutching her slender fingers in his own, wonderingly. “I thought you might like them. They’re red like your hair.”

Lestat had done much of the same thing once for Louis. A young man with the most beautiful green eyes, black hair slinking down to his chin, much the same as Louis himself, had been left in his bedroom as a gift. Louis had not taken kindly to it, to say the least.

The woman accepted the gift with disdainful eyes, but pressed them close to her heart. “Thank you. I will treasure them. Do you have the rest?”

There was a moment when the boy, so spellbound by the woman was he, did not take notice of her words. The next moment he blinked, snapping himself back into action, and reached inside his cloak again to pull out a bundle of herbs that Lestat recognized as a very rare type of medicine. “O-Of course! Here you are.”

The herbs were regarded with much more care than the flowers had been and she tucked it carefully into her bosom, far beyond the prying eyes of strangers. “Thank you. Father will be ecstatic to have these.”

“And now?” the boy asked anxiously, licking his lips. Lestat felt something inside him surge at the simple action, but he held back for now, desiring to see where this would go first. He had wanted to be entertained after all. “What you promised in return?”

“Of course.” The woman slipped her hands from the grip of the boy, placing them securely on his hips and tugging him closer. She leaned in till they were only inches away, his face flushed with expectation, their combined breath mingling. Silky lips met his and Lestat allowed himself to watch the spectacle for a couple seconds more before springing into action.

Lestat was fast in the way that shadows were fast, there one moment and gone the next. He held the woman tight in his grip, ripped cruelly away from their kiss. He held one arm around her waist, securing her to him, and the other hand tilted her head back firmly, revealing the pale expanse of her neck.

“Olivia!” the boy exclaimed, anger and panic mixing on his features. He turned on Lestat, taking a step forward. “What are you doing, sir?”

“Saving you from what is sure to be a nasty relationship,” Lestat answered, lowering his lips to her trembling skin, his own curls falling over her revealed shoulders. “She is quite the beauty, though, I will agree.”

“Let me go!” the woman cried impetuously, struggling against his hold. “You can’t do this!”

She stilled instantly as his lips were replaced by fangs, pressing sharply into the skin. “Oh but I believe I can.”

Louis was not on the couch when he returned home. Lestat carefully placed both bodies on the sofa, taking a moment to trace a loving stroke down the unconscious boy’s cheek. “Louis? I’ve brought us dinner.”

He frowned at the lack of reply. He swept from the parlor room, searching the house for any sign of his undead lover. When he reached the bedroom finally and there was still no sign of him, he started to think that maybe he had gone out, angry as well after their fight. What he was instead met with was the sudden presence of a body pressed up against his own, their stance quite mirroring that of Lestat’s earlier in the alley. Lestat stiffened, a thrill of pleasure rushing down his spine.

“Hello Louis,” he said pleasantly, casting a glance back at him. “Finally come around, have you?”

“I have finished my book.”

Lestat closed his eyes as Louis peppered his shoulders and neck with gentle kisses. It was then that he remembered that he was mad at the latter and slipped out of his grip, turning around to glare at him with crossed arms. “And just why should I forgive you? You treated me horribly earlier, and now you expect me to come crawling back into your arms?”

“It’s Christmas,” Louis pointed out. His cheeks were flushed, evident of a recent kill, and his eyes sparkled with a lustful desire that always served to weaken Lestat.

“We’re heathens, Louis,” Lestat responded dryly.

Louis merely shrugged. “Okay. Well if you don’t want my company, I suppose I will go find something else to do. There is another book by this esteemed dead writer that I’ve been meaning to get to—”

Louis found himself pinned against the bed in the next instant, the bedframe rattling in protest. “You will be doing no such thing,” Lestat snarled, leaning down to press hungry, envious kisses against his lips. “You will stay here with me and if you’re lucky I might let you go in the morning.”

Louis smiled, the clear winner. There were would be other battles, but the round of that night belonged to him. “That’s what I thought. What about dinner.”

“Fuck dinner.”

“Gladly.”

“Git.”

Later Lestat would remember that he was mad at the other, but for right now he chose to exemplify it in the forming of violent sex, a love language they both understood well. 

Neither one of them could be really mad at the situation, in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at my tumblr: https://crookswithbooks.tumblr.com/


End file.
